


OPEN FOR BUSINESS SESSION

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bondage, Dominance/submission, Humanformers, M/M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Non-Sticky Sex, Other, Pain As Pleasure, Power Bottom, Self Stimulation, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, Warped Reality (AU), alt mode sex, m/m - Freeform, overload denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Pharma gets to have some fun.





	1. Chapter 1

  1. _Take a Long Drag~Ambulon/Pharma (mech as human)_



Pharma adjusts the black thigh-highs around his legs. Fingers tuck in the fasteners to the leather cuff before they flow up to narrow hips draped in gold satin. Pharma shivers when fingers ghost over his cock. He wraps his hands around those thin wrists to track up forearms. He admires the fingers as they dance up over his abdomen and chest. Pharma arches back into the slender body behind him with a gasp as a single fingertip traces lightly back down over the same expanse to tease and circle his belly button. A soft pet to his cock has Pharma digging his nails into the soft flesh of the arms that encircle him. A teasing tongue licks a line from the nape of his neck to his ear lobe, darting into the ear in quick thrusts.

"Ambu--"

Both hands track up and over Pharma's chest to grasp his shoulders and turn him around to face his playmate. Ambulon smiles wanly at Pharma before guiding him back to rest against the cool surface of a mirror. The younger man smiles at his mentor. His thumbs stroke over stiff nibbles causing Pharma to shiver and shift. Ambulon's knee comes up to keep Pharma's thighs apart and to create a wonderful friction against the older males contracting balls.

"Are you standing at attention for me already?"  Ambulon eyes the stiff cock draped in satin. "Should I give you a suck to take the edge off?"

Pharma bites his lip and sits more fully against Ambulon's exploring knee. He moans low in his chest when a hip is brought to press into his cock. Ambulon chuckles. The wet dribble of pre-cum meets his press. He licks at Pharma's abused lip before dropping to his knees, his hands firm on narrow hips to keep Pharma standing where he had put his playmate.

"A drying suck it is then. Might have to change into the leather thong after this. Gonna mess you up good." His eyes flick up to Pharma's face as his head is grasped and tugged forward in a silent plea. Ambulon smiles against the erection. His breath ghosts over the flexing flesh beneath the dampening satin turning a dirty gold. "Aide's gonna be disappointed though; he wanted that one."

Pharma arches and pushes his shoulders back into the mirror making an aborted thrust for Ambulon's mouth when he is given a long like from the base of his balls to the winking tip of his cock.

Ambulon tilts his head to mouth along Pharma's covered shaft. He alternately nips and licks the flesh under the cloth while his thumbs and fingers tighten and loosen on Pharma's hips with each small thrust the older man makes. He noses the tip that peaks over the damp satin before taking it between his lips. He stops all movement though when Pharma grabs a fistful of his hair. He waits for Pharma to still before tonguing the weeping slit and releasing a humming blow. Ambulon's thumbs catch the waistband of the thongs and yanks them up and tight against Pharma.

"Yaamhmmm." Blood slips from a bitten lip. Pharma ejaculates into Ambulon mouth after the savage press of the fabric constricting his testicles and anus.

Ambulon is ready for the flow and smiles around the shooting cock as he drinks the ejaculate without uttering more than a pleased hum.


	2. Chapter 2

  1. _Built to Impress~Rodimus/Pharma (warped reality on the Lost Light)_



Pharma draws the chain tighter in his grip while slamming fully into the spasming valve and circling his hips against the orange hips that slam into the edge of the desk. His free hand draws a tender line between tense shoulder blades while tracking down to bound wrists. He smiles indulgently at the back of an orange helm as Rodimus invents and exvents quickly to help his cooling fans cool his overheated frame.

The Delphi medic chuckles. "Enjoying yourself, commander?" He hums pleased with the small uncontrolled shivers that sweep over the orange frame when he pulls back. The tip of his spike fetching up against the entrance of Rodimus' cycling valve. He drags the glowing tip shallowly through the nodes there. Lubricant dribbles down orange thighs that shake and try not to push back into each teasing glance.

Blue fingers dig into bound wrists as Rodimus gives up and fucks the edge of the table to help alleviate the building charge. Pharma draws out fully but does not go far. He scratches down the commander's back as he waits for the younger mech to still his swaying hips. He licks his lips when a pleading whimper reaches his audios. He places the tip of his cord back into Rodimus' valve and thrusts shallowly.

An orange helm is turned and blue optics scan a smug face. Pharma releases the speedster's bound wrists. Blue fingers tickle orange hip seams and the wires beneath shivering plating. He pushes slowly into the younger mech, letting his spike's head catch and linger along each cycling ring in Rodimus' valve before bottoming out. The flyer tips his helm back with a steamy exvent before glancing down at the tensing and laxing frame under his hands.

"Mmm, very nice," he husks in a low tenor. "Now let's see how revved up you can get before Magnus comes in here to nail you to the wall." Rodimus wails weakly and digs his forehelm into his desk as Pharma begins a slow rolling thrust meant to tear him open from the inside out.


	3. Chapter 3

  1. _Not Serious, Serious~Tarn/Pharma (organism blackmail)_



Tarn folds his arms across his chest and looks down at the trembling flyer wrapped about his cord expectantly. Behind his mask, the tank arches an optic ridge as he watches several emotions scatter through Pharma's optics. Finally disbelief settles in their blue depths. Thinner thighs tighten on thick purple hips in a subtle command that is ignored. The tank would not move one inch until he was cuddled.

Tarn knew the flyer was stubborn in this area, but he had him in the perfect non-negotiable position. He was not going to waste this chance to get his pre-ejaculation cuddles from Pharma this time. He could outlast the stubborn medic if it came down to that. The Peaceful Tyranny wasn't going anywhere without him anyway.

"Y-you can...can't be doing this now!!" Pharma's voice on near hysterics as he attempted to move his own hips to regain the lessening charge seeping from his systems.

Tarn's red optics narrow, but he merely rocks to the frontal tip of his peds and rolls his hip downward to wedge Pharma firmly against the medical berth beneath the flyer. All without touching the medic or unwrapping his arms from his stubborn stance; the tank watches Pharma expectantly.

Pharma spits static before insults pour from his mouth. Tarn rolls his optics with a snort; he's heard much more inventive things from Decepticon newbuilds. After about twenty minutes of this, the flyer finally stills his vocalizer and lunges for the tank.

His fingers glance in a long pet over the cannon strapped to Tarn's arm. Careful if frustrated attention is paid to each connection strut between cannon and arm plating. Tarn thrums happily in his engine. The purr low and almost subsonic shakes Pharma and the medical berth. The happy tank pulls the flying frame flesh against his own and encircles an arm around a narrow waist. He nuzzles his chin into the top of Pharma's helm. He picks up where he left off his thrusting pace and continues to purr sub-vocally as Pharma wraps his arms around his vibrating chassis, giving into a full cuddle as long as Tarn's spike did not stop spitting him open wide and deep.


	4. Chapter 4

  1. _Grocery Store~Vos/Pharma/Rung (threesome alt-mode sex)_



Vox tracks his small fingers along Pharma's under-carriage, picking lightly at the open wheel wells and rimming the tires with his palms in glancing pets. He presses his back strut to the medic's belly with a group of chittering pleased clicks when his hip assembly rolls against the flyer's forward landing gear. Vox's helm rubs along Pharma's under belly as the gunformer slithers over the ground in a sensuous wave to help build up the charge before the jet breaks into overload. He clicks at his partner in crime happily and hums at the Primal Vernacular that responds in agreement to his own suggestion.

Rung's peds hook about Pharma's nose cone, his thighs tightening and loosening carefully around the glass of the flyer's sealed cockpit. The glass creaks with each scrape of the moving legs. The psychiatrist drapes his frame fully across the flyer's top haul as his lower pets and moves along the starboard plating of the jet. Rung's small fingers reach to Pharma's trembling wings. He presses into each joint he can reach as splayed as he is along the medic's back. He fingers the forward edge of the wing before dragging just the tips of his digits along the top surface of the wing. He pinches the directional flaps and fiddles with them, pulling them up and pushing them down.

Pharma's turbine fires in a stressed sound as fire shouts from the exhaust port. His frame snapping with charge as both mechs above and below him grind into his plating with their full small frames. He is so lost in the charge and the blasting of his engine that his landing gear snaps closed involuntarily sending him crashing to the ground when Vos mounts his back with Rung. The gunformer is careful of the firing turbine as he settles in along Pharma's tail. Pharma becomes lost in the sensuous movement against his upper haul he is unable and unwilling to focus on the Primal Vernacular going on between the two who had mounted him. He whimpers at the loss of their four hands though only to gasp and tumble into overload as spark energy warms his upper haul a moment after the chittering clicks quiet.

Vos draws his fingers through Rung's as he exposes his spark to the little Autobot. The ornamentformer smiles and responds by opening his chest to expose his own spark. His smile is wry as he allows Vos to pull him forward so that their open chests collide. Rung emits a low churring call as his spark concaves to the forward press of Vos' spark. Tendrils from each spark twist and knot together. Electricity slithers over the surfaces of the conjoined sparks. Rung's essence tugs brutally on Vos', and Vos' responds in kind. The sparks swirl in a small cyclonic storm that smashes through the individual cores and cracks them open. Fissures howl over spitting spark, and overload claims both mechs who grind down viciously into the trapped jet below them.


	5. Chapter 5

  1. _Switch Same:  Tyrest/Pharma_



Tyrest leans against the pillows on his bed, his optics raking the closed posture of Pharma.  He grins as those lovely wings flick in time with the doctor’s irritation meandering through the electromagnetic field.  The pout to a mouth that held as sharp tongue was doing all kind of wonderful things to Tyrest’s engine; however, he was to play the submissive tonight at Pharma’s pleading request.  But it wasn’t hard for the chief justice to see that Pharma didn’t have a lot of experience in the role.   _ Hm, perhaps I need to schedule another session with Lockdown on display for my little tool.   _ Tyrest shifts his lower frame upward to unseat Pharma from straddling his abdominal armor.  He bares his denta in a challenging smirk which earns a sharp smack of the electro-crop Pharma held.

He eyes the line on his chest before his optics swing to Pharma whose bore a look of worry.  “Mm,” he praises, “that’s good, my little tool.”  He leans forward as much as the arm restraints will allow.  He makes note of the way Pharma’s optics follow his glossa as he licks the line of his lips in a tease.  He watches Pharma press the handle of the electro-crop to his lips.  The medic’s own glossa flicking out to tease a digit joint.

Slowly Tyrest raises his knees to create a cradle for Pharma to lean back against.  Pharma obeys the unspoken command and rests backward.  Tyrest watches the medic’s wings relax, the tension leaving their line.  Tyrest reclines against the pillows again.  He lifts his hips to invite Pharma to relax against him more fully.  Perhaps being bound and unable to touch his little tool would be an interesting enough change of play for Pharma who had indirectly hinted about that he had wanted to try to the dominant’s role.  Pharma never really spoke directly about his bedroom desires unless on the cusp of a frustrated overload, at least not to Tyrest but then Lockdown was a wealth of information for the chief justice.

“Open your chest, my little tool,” he commands and smiles warmly as he is obeyed without a cripe or mutter.

Watching Pharma fold apart the panels of his chest armor never fails to amuse Tyrest.  The doctor was shy about revealing his spark until he was having his circuitry stimulated, then he couldn’t pop that last barrier fast enough.  Tyrest’s frame vibrates in a pleased rumble.  He smiles approvingly at Pharma as the electro-crop is shut off and set to the side, leaving both of Pharma’s hands free.  Hands that settles obediently on blue hips waiting for their master’s command.

“Do you wish to touch yourself, little tool?”  Tyrest hoods his optics and dims their glow.  He can feel the anticipation coiling in Pharma’s electromagnetic field.  It rubs against his greedily like an cyber feline looking for strokes and attention.  Tyrest lowers the pitch of his vocalizer, knowing what it was going to do to his flyer.  “And what would you do if I allowed you to touch?”

The subtle shift of wings and the way blue digits unconsciously stroked at the metal beneath them made Tyrest wish that Pharma had stuck to his earlier wish of wanting to dominate the chief justice.  Tyrest resettles himself to release the small tension in his spinal strut.   _ Perhaps another day _ , he promises himself silently, for now he would enjoy the show.  “Well get to it then,” he snaps, making Pharma jump.  His chief medical officer is quick to dig digits into familiar circuitry.

Pharma’s digits lace around and through delicate mechanisms.  Tyrest chuckles as Pharma makes his digits dance.  If he were honest with himself, Tyrest knew there was nothing quite like watching a highly trained medical professional work himself over.  They always knew where to touch to light the world on fire, from a slow burn that ate the processor bit by bit until there was no corner of it left untouched by pleasure and desire to a lightening fast fry that blew complete neural nets.

Tyrest raised his knees higher by pressing the tips of his peds into the bed when he saw Pharma begin to fall back.  He refused to miss the show.  While he watched the medic’s digits work, Tyrest’s main focus was the spark light that flared and tried to escape the confines of its chamber.  He added a note to the video file he had started recording.  ‘Add the calculation of pleasure/pain into the formula for the kill switch.’

“Pharma.”  The doctor stops jerking himself off to center his optical feed on Tyrest.  The designation always drew Pharma’s enter focus to Tyrest no matter the situation.  The judge leans his helm forward and opens his mouth.  “Let me taste it.”

Tyrest hears the whine in the glitching vocalizer as Pharma scrambles to position himself so his open chest cavity laid in alignment for Tyrest to stimulate the medic’s spark.  The small chamber door cycles open to bare the spark.

“Lower, my little tool.”

A tendril of spark energy lances the tip of Tyrest’s glossa.  He vents a blast of heated and hears his designation given in praised begging.  He circles the tendril, letting it snake and weave over the chemo-fores peppering his glossa.  He neither retreats or advances as he enjoys the tingling.  The feel of digits petting and stroking his wings in encouragement do nothing to sway him to jab his glossa into the center of spark shell.  He exvents another blast of heated air making Pharma shiver and try to press closer.  Still Tyrest stays his course.  His chief medical officer had already given up control, and he was going to enjoy making his little tool squirm and beg until he was finished with him.


End file.
